


a tiny princess

by jazspers



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: F/M, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:26:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazspers/pseuds/jazspers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>caitlin is the princess of the land but the queen of his heart</p>
            </blockquote>





	a tiny princess

**Author's Note:**

> this was a request i never even finished black

The princess was sleeping softly and soundly, her small body enveloped by her hair thin and light and a bright shimmery gold that looked absolutely radiant in the sunlight, or so Grimsley thought. Somewhat biased, he would admit, but it was common consensus that Princess Caitlin was a maiden fair and true, beautiful in both appearance and personality. A girl young and altruistic and empathetic and maybe a bit naive but that was fine because she had a butler by her side who served a purpose less like a servant and more like her common sense personified as a young, slightly troubled boy. Grimsley was proud to call that title his own. He was both proud and ecstatic to stand next to the princess to whom his very life was owed because, though he was barely over age eighteen, he’d gone from a boy from a well off home to a teenager gambling his money away on the streets to survive, a story much too long to tell but could be easily summed up as two parts tragedy and one part conspiracy and deceit, as he’d later found out the truth of his family’s background, specializing in a business best described as kidnapping and trading. Maybe he was a little bit grateful that the parents he only knew as kind as loving died in a fire that was narrowly escaped by Grimsley himself, because perhaps that fire had saved more lives than it had taken. He wasn’t sure of the answer, and chose to ignore it, finding it too painful to put thought into. The princess had something once, that even the worst people are still capable of compassion, and that it would be cruel to discredit the good that still existed inside them, especially after death. She hadn’t been to him, or about him, but somehow he felt that those words were meant to shake him to the very core. Sure, it was a view almost painfully idealistic, but in a world as cruel as his own he saw her dreams as the one beautiful salvation he had left. Unintelligent she was not, but perhaps she was ignorant, and the bliss that emerged from her ignorance was a blessing, just as Caitlin herself was a divine blessing.

He sat in a small wooden chair beside a nightstand, immersed in a book that he commonly read to the young princess before she fell into slumber. Grimsley often wondered about her dreams, if they were filled with pink gumdrops and fairies dancing and singing just like how she saw the world that he found bleak and gray. If one payed close attention, as Grimsley often did, her small lips would often curl upwards whenever she turned in her sleep, and every once in a while she might giggle and wrap her arms around herself as if maybe she were being hugged. To watch her was a treat, an elegant cake topped with strawberries and whipped cream that was smooth and ethereal and melted in your mouth with an aftertaste that could sweeten even the sourest of moods.

The book snapped shut in his hand and he gave up on attempting to concentrate on the tale that, though interesting and intriguing, couldn’t quite capture his gaze from his princess. He took a knee down by her bed, pushing past the light pink netting that cascading from the ceiling, and opening the warm cocoon she had wrapped herself in, shut off from the outside world as she danced with the butterflies in her mind. He wondered if she dreamed of him, and smiled contentedly at the realization that it was entirely probable that inside her head the two of them were waltzing along with the butterflies in a field of tulips and daisies but not roses, she didn’t like roses because, though elegant they were, the thorns drew away from their beauty. “What a pitiable flower" she used to say as she passed by the rose garden in the castle courtyard, which is why that garden is now a home to hundreds of bright red poppies. Caitlin was a spoiled princess to say the least, with a strong sense of duty and justice for even flowers and young boys she finds battered and bruised in alleyways scarfing down bread stolen from the local stand.

Her skin was silky and pale and clear and her cheeks had a natural blush and her eyelashes were long and stood out especially well when she batted her eyes and pouted at someone from refusing to bend to every little will, but of course they did in the end. There wasn’t a soul that could resist a face that glowed with innocent bliss as hers did, especially not Grimsley, who’s head spun at the sight of her. Love was a word he’d forgotten the meaning of, but surely if he could understand the concept he could say that he felt nothing but undying love for the girl with a heart of tightly wound golden twine, and even though his was a dingy little thing with patches and holes, tied together with cheap yarn that fell apart at the seams, he often thought of what it might be like if she could love him in his entirety, if he could ever be more than a servant that was trusted more than any other, but was still a servant nonetheless.

The thought was like a punch in the stomach, as if a fist had bounced around the inside of his stomach and tore through the lining and he was now bleeding profusely but only internally because he wouldn’t dare show his lovely empathetic princess the pain her existence caused. Of course it hurt to not be loved, to walk by her side at arms length instead of arm in arm, but it would hurt more to watch the pain on her face as she whispered the words “I’m sorry, I can’t feel the same". The fists turned to knives that ripped through his core and he began to feel his lips quiver as he thought of the pain he could cause her, of the fact that he could cause her pain at all. His fingers, rough and dry and riddled callouses, trembled slightly as he stroked her skin, warm and soft and calming to the touch, as if all his anxieties had been blown away with just this. He smiled, a warmth now instilled in his heart of patchwork yarn that spread through and healed his every wound. Her eyes fluttered open like the butterflies in his stomach and he was met with glossy orbs of deep green that stared into his very soul. He couldn’t win against those eyes; his legs had already turned to gelatin, his cheeks burning as he met her gaze and she shot him a quizzical look as she muttered his name, a beautiful sound that rang through his ears.

"Grimsley? Is something wrong?" Her voice was quiet and small as she attempted to adjust the world again, but a hand swept over her eyes, telling them it wasn’t time to return just yet, that the faeries still needed their princess to lead the butterflies in a dance in the field of flowers.

"No, I’m just going to bed." He smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead, ignoring the blood that drummed in his ears because this was an action innocent and platonic in intent. “Good night, princess."

"Ah, sleep well, Grimsley." The words were barely audible on her lips as he exited the room, but they rang loud and true in his ears. As he opened the door, he began to bow to her, but stopped himself, remembering that Caitlin had specifically asked for him not to bow to her, despite the fact that the king had demanded the utmost respect from his ragamuffin servant boy, but he was not the king’s servant, his entire being belonged to Caitlin alone, even if she herself wasn’t aware of it.


End file.
